Carver hated that Hector was right. He ground his teeth together. “You have one week. Then I’m going to the emperor.”
Kulver snorted. “That’s not enough time.”
Hector clasped his hands together, his eyes pleading. “Just give us until the ball, at least.”
That was still four weeks away.
Carver met Morelli’s gaze. The older general looked as torn as Carver felt.
“Fine,” he finally said. “But Morelli and I are officially part of this investigation. We won’t be kept in the dark about anything.”
Relief spread over Hector’s face. “Of course. Thank you.”
“You won’t tell anyone else?” Kulver asked.
“For now, no.” Morelli looked to Carver. “If this conspiracy is as widespread as we fear, it’s the safest course.”
Carver didn’t like it, but he agreed with Morelli’s assessment—to a point. “We tell my father,” he said. The High General deserved to know about this threat. More than that, he might have invaluable insights.
He didn’t mention that he would also be telling Amryn.
Hector didn’t look pleased, but he accepted Carver’s decision.
Carver nodded toward the steward’s desk. “Get your notes. I want to know everything.”
Chapter 45
Amryn
Amrynwouldhavebeenutterly bored during Hector’s very long and excruciatingly detailed tour of the palace if it weren’t for Carver. As the steward droned on about architecture, antiques, and anything else that caught his attention, Carver walked beside her, supplying her with his own whispered commentary.
“. . . There’s actually a chip in that priceless vase. Loreena and I accidentally knocked it over when we were kids, and we just twisted it around so the cracked side faced the wall. We buried the broken shard in the gardens . . .”
“. . . Argent and I would leave each other notes in that plant. No idea why we thought it was such a secretive place, when obviously a servant watered the thing regularly . . .”
“. . . Saints, I hate that painting. Who wants to gaze at the Scorched Plains? It’s utterly depressing. And that has to be the ugliest shade of orange I’ve ever seen . . .”
“. . . Morelli once convinced me this hallway was haunted. He and my father even laid in wait one night to make the appropriate terrifying sounds. I think they wanted to scare me so I’d stop sneaking around at night with Argent, but of course it didn’t work—partly because Morelli couldn’t help but laugh when my father gave a particularly high-pitched scream, so I knew it was them . . .”
She loved every memory and thought he shared with her, no matter how insignificant. Even if sometimes she struggled not to laugh. After all the tension of the last few days, it was nice to see Carver smile.
Well, unless he caught sight of Ivan and Elowen.
The Sibeten prince had invited Carver’s sister to join the tour. The moment Carver had seen them together, he’d scowled. Amryn had done her best to distract him, and Jayveh and her slew of guards had helped act as a buffer.
Carver still sent Ivan sharp looks, especially whenever Ivan moved a little closer to Elowen, or ducked his head so he could catch whatever she wanted to whisper to him. But for the most part, Carver had allowed himself to ignore them.
Amryn was glad. As monotonous as the tour itself might be, she enjoyed spending time with her husband. Since the attack in Market Square, Carver had been locked in more meetings than ever. The newest fear was that the more violent factions in Harvari might learn of the strike and be emboldened, or even try to replicate it in other cities. Amryn also knew Carver was worried about everything he’d learned from Hector about the Brotherhood. While there wasn’t much he could do to help with that investigation, he had read through Hector’s notes. Even though he suspected the Brotherhood had killed Trevill—and was also targeting the Chosen—he was still looking into all that as well.
Carver was stretched thin, but he still made time to visit Ford every day. Thankfully, his recovery was going smoothly, though he was restless, spending so much time in bed. He’d begged Amryn to bring her cello and play for him the next time she came to visit.
There were days Carver was kept so busy, Amryn rarely saw him. She worried about the stress he carried, and the relentless demands being made of him. The continued late nights and too-frequently skipped meals couldn’t be helping. And yet, he always seemed more concerned about her, even though she was recovering well from her injuries. Her various scrapes and bruises were fading, and she no longer needed the bandage around her throat.
Still, Carver was being extremely careful with her. Perhapstoocareful. While he gave her soft kisses, he kept in strict control each time. It was a little maddening, to be honest. Especially after he’d kissed her into such blissful oblivion. But the bond between them was stronger than ever. While she regretted the way they’d fought, she was glad they’d finally shared the things they’d been holding inside.
Lost in her thoughts, Amryn didn’t realize they were headed into the palace’s chapel until they were already inside.
The vaulted room carried a chill the rest of the palace hadn’t, despite the soaring stained-glass windows that glowed with sunlight. Even Hector grew more somber, his tone subdued as he led them through the vast space. Incense burned, infusing the air with a heavy, cloying scent. Endless rows of wooden pews faced an elaboratealtar. Lining the chapel were gated alcoves that contained treasures of the church and holy relics. Some were objects that sainted men and women had owned—a ring, a piece of cloth, or a personal talisman of some kind—and others were actual bones of the saints. Amryn fought a shiver when she saw the bones displayed in their velvet-lined cases. She avoided looking inside the alcoves after that.
